


But in the light of day

by honeypuffed



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 10:04:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeypuffed/pseuds/honeypuffed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone slips Enjolras ecstasy and he's a total mess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But in the light of day

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this](http://makinghugospin.livejournal.com/11823.html?thread=4374575#t4374575) prompt at the meme.

Bright lights are in the process of blinding Grantaire entirely when he feels a hand grab his ass. He hears his name, just barely, in the din of the music, but before he can spin around, there are arms wrapped around his waist and a decidedly male body pressed up against his back.

" _Grantaire_."

It's barely a whisper, but at this distance, he can feel the breath on his neck. He shivers and twists to try and see, and catches a tell-tale blond curl before there is a mouth on his nape, sucking and biting and Grantaire's eyes fall shut of their own accord.

"Enjolras," he manages. "What- What are you doing?"

"You feel," Enjolras starts, but doesn't finish, just goes back to sucking on Grantaire's neck.

Grantaire needs to stop this. He needs to figure out what's going on. But.

"You feel _amazing_ ," Enjolras finally says, loosening his grip just enough to slide his hands up under Grantaire's shirt, over the plains of his stomach and to his chest and--

Grantaire grabs his hands in a moment of (begrudging) clarity. "Stop." He pries Enjolras' hands away enough to tear himself from his grip and from his _mouth_ , christ, enough to spin around and get a good look at Enjolras and _what is going on_.

Enjolras gives him this huge ear-splitting grin and Grantaire's traitorous heart falters for a moment.

"Did you…take something?" he suddenly realises. It's not a situation he'd ever expected Enjolras to get himself into, but then he can't see any other explanation for _this_.

Enjolras' smile drops. "I don't think so." His eyes are wide and his pupils are _huge_ and okay so someone slipped him E, that's not okay.

Who's idea was this rave anyway? Enjolras and his stupid friends. Their friends. Whatever.

"I love you," Enjolras says suddenly, and doesn't give Grantaire the chance to respond, let alone take stock of the moment, before he's grabbed Grantaire's hands and all but demanded, "Let's dance."

Grantaire lets himself be dragged out to the middle of the floor, too stunned to work up any physical resistance.

 _I love you_ , his brain is saying. _I love you I love you I loveyouiloveyou_.

"I'm so glad I came out tonight," Enjolras says, and then stops dancing to giggle. " _Came out_." He slaps a kiss on Grantaire's lips and goes back to dancing wildly.

Grantaire is sort of mortified that that's how his first kiss with Enjolras goes, but there's no time to think on that now.

Courfeyrac comes dancing by them and pauses to comment, "Hook in, man," with a big grin on his face. Grantaire is going to ask him about Enjolras, but then he notices those same oversized pupils on Courfeyrac.

So, he's out of the loop, then.

"Ohh shit," Enjolras says. "Shit there's a dragon above you, Grantaire." 

"Oh dear god," is Grantaire's response.

He's doing his best to ignore the situation. The situation, being, the part where Enjolras, _love of his stupid bloody life_ , is grinding up against him and also tripping something furious. His heart is a mess, beating all over the place, and this is terrible, he gets how this works, and he gets that no, Enjolras doesn't love him, never has, never will, quite the opposite, and that it's just the ecstasy talking, but god almighty if he hasn't wanted this for the longest time.

No.

No this is bad.

"Enjolras," Grantaire whimpers when his earlobe is sucked into Enjolras' mouth and _damn it_ that feels good. " _Enjolras_ I need to take you home."

Enjolras pulls back and licks his lips. "Okay."

And Grantaire's thinking, _not like that_ , but that's hardly the issue. As long as he can get him out of here.

While navigating their way through the crowds to get out of this place, Enjolras makes sure to stop for every one of their friends to give them a big hug and kiss on the cheek. Grantaire earns himself multiple entertained looks, a disapproving glance from Combeferre, a creepy _go-get-him-tiger_ one from Courfeyrac, and a terribly frantic look from Joly -- but on the whole it's not that embarassing.

Not.

The cab home is worse.

Not only does Enjolras spend the ride bouncing in his seat to the radio the cab driver's playing, but he's also got his hands all over Grantaire's thighs as he tells the cabbie, his apparent new best friend, his life story.

"If you'd believe it," Enjolras is saying, "I wasn't that outspoken in school. People made it difficult. But oh university, _university_ ," -- how on _earth_ does he make that sound obscene -- "is perfection." He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, squeezing Grantaire's leg. "And this guy, he can be a giant asshole, but I love him a lot."

Grantaire bites his lip. Oh how he would delight in this moment, if only he weren't so completely, one hundred percent sure it was all drug-induced. What sweet, sweet torture.

Enjolras twists in his seatbelt so he can snuggle closer to Grantaire. Grantaire _had_ insisted they leave the middle seat free for breathing room, but Enjolras was having none of that. ("Breathing room? _Breathing room_?" he had laughed at Grantaire and kissed him on the nose.)

Grantaire finds himself apologising profusely to the cab driver as he pays the fare. Thankfully the man looks more entertained than anything, though the wink and the "Watch out there, kid," are entirely unnecessary, thank you very much.

As Grantaire tries to fit his key into the lock, Enjolras is behind him running his hands all over his waist going, "Come _on_ , we don't have all night. Oh wait, _yes we do_."

Once inside, Grantaire launches himself into the kitchen and fills up a giant glass with water. "Drink," he says, holding it out in front of Enjolras, who, to Grantaire's delight, actually obeys and tosses it back quickly.

"Now to the cuddling?" Enjolras asks, and okay so Grantaire's heart melts a little (a lot), and he can't help but think that maybe cuddling is okay, it's not like it's particularly--

"Shower first," he says in spite of himself.

Enjolras wriggles his eyebrows.

"Go, go," he drives him off in the direction of the shower and definitely does not think about sharing it. Does _not_ think about--

Enjolras is stripping off before he even hits the tiles of the bathroom floor, and Grantaire would look away but he's already been enough of a good friend right? He can allow himself this one indulgence. (And well, if he feels bad about it later, that's nothing new.)

"Fuck," he breathes out, as Enjolras steps out of his stupid tight pants, and "Fuck," he says again as he's turning on the shower and getting it to the right temperature and Enjolras is all over him again, trying to get Grantaire's shirt off, and "Fuck," one last time for good measure.

He bundles Enjolras into the shower and tries not to look anymore because that didn't help _at all_ , but Enjolras manages to get hold of Grantaire's forearm and tugs him in under the spray, fully clothed.

"It feels incredible, right?"

Assuming he's talking about the shower, "Sure."

" _God_ really, it just feels _so good, ah Grantaire_."

And the whole situation jumps the line from borderline pornographic to XXX _18+ only_ in a matter of seconds.

Grantaire flees the shower, slams the bathroom door calling "See me when you're done," through it, and retreats to his bedroom, dripping through the house. He very quickly redresses, in case Enjolras follows him, and then curls up in bed. If Enjolras decides to get off in the shower, Grantaire does not want to know because he does not want to think about--

Too late.

The whole time Enjolras is in the shower -- _singing_ , for christ's sake, what appears to be improvised -- Grantaire is very _very_ pointedly trying to convince himself he doesn't have a giant hard on. It's not really working.

So he judges by Enjolras' singing how much longer he has on his own and decides that dealing with this now is safer than leaving it up to-- never mind. He shoves a hand down his pants and gets off quick and dirty, turning bright red when Enjolras sings his name. It's not as if he hasn't gotten off to thoughts of Enjolras before, but this is somehow a whole new level of wrong.

Twenty minutes later, and Enjolras has found him again. His hair is dripping everywhere, and apparently he's decided against clothes and is going for the boxer-briefs-only look, and Grantaire needs to look away.

Enjolras hums quietly to himself, and then comes over to Grantaire. "Move over?" he asks, strangely quiet.

Grantaire looks back at him and sees that he's beginning to come down. Safe, then. He shuffles over in bed and Enjolras crawls in beside him, wrapping himself all around Grantaire and tucking his head under his chin. His hair is wet and cold against Grantaire's chest, but Grantaire doesn't mind, just gets this horribly warm, fuzzy feeling.

It's not fair, really, all this. Soon all this will be gone and Enjolras will go back to hating him and probably will never talk to him again, and well, it's not like Grantaire ever expected anything to happen, but getting this only to have it taken away again is going to hurt.

"I really love you," Enjolras says then, perhaps feeling the way Grantaire stiffens up beneath him.

Grantaire swallows and squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to think about that. "Go to sleep."

If it takes Grantaire forever to fall asleep as he thinks of all the possible ways this will turn out tomorrow, well, who can blame him?

 

Grantaire wakes the next morning feeling positively wretched. "Fuck," he mutters. " _Fuck_."

"If it is _any_ consolation," comes the scratchy, sleep-worn voice of Enjolras, "I too, feel terrible."

Grantaire looks over and there Enjolras is, sitting up against the headboard, looking much too serious.

"I don't even know where to start apologising."

And here it is. Grantaire braces himself.

"I'm so mortified. I mean, I don't entirely remember the night, but I remember enough and." He scrunches up his face. "I'm really, truly sorry for my behaviour."

Grantaire shrugs and tries to ignore the lump in his throat. "It's fine, it wasn't your fault."

"I think, I may have said something, uh, important," Enjolras goes on, voice getting quieter and quieter.

"Huh?" Grantaire strains to hear.

"I just want you to know that, my awful timing aside, I meant what I said."

"I," Grantaire starts, but then. Wait. What part? _That?_ "I thought you hated me."

Enjolras gives him a weird look that Grantaire can't figure out, and then Enjolras' rigid posture eases almost imperceptibly. "When I feel less like death, I'm going to kiss you properly, okay?"

There's a moment there when everything just seems to freeze, and Grantaire has no idea what's going on because in all the million scenarios he'd imagined for today, this was not one of them. Not even _close_.

"Okay," Grantaire says, because he has no idea what else to say.

And well, also because, _yes please_.


End file.
